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That morning, I’d opened my mail to a $20 bill, my camera, and a copy of the oracle’s gossip column. She never asked me for my footage. Nor credited me. But at least she paid me. Nobody else would know she stole it.
The tips of her lips turned up. “You had one lucky shot,” she said. “What will you do without your camera? You’d be just as useless as everyone else.”
“I would improvise,” I said. “I’m crafty.”
“What’s the favor?”
I took a breath. Admitting that I needed something in return was a liability. Flora’s gaze seared into my soul. I hesitated. A fatal mistake.
“Let me guess… Flora, I want into Fae House? I’ll get you whatever you want in exchange for the pretty pointed ears?”
“No!” I exclaimed. “I want the freedom to choose.”
“To choose?”
“My House.”
“You already have that. It is a mutual selection system.”
“But it isn’t, is it?” I leaned forward. Flora sat back. Opened a drawer. “I can write down whatever House I choose, but they have to pick me back. It’s only an illusion of choice.”
“And you are worried you will get dropped by a desirable House.” She pulled a shiny object out of the drawer. Cleared her papers off the desk. “And that you came to this university for nothing.”
There it was. She’d found the crack in my defenses. Good thing I knew hers, too. Time to deflect.
“As worried as you should have been. With a name like Flora, I doubt it destined you for anything other than Rose House.”
The room chilled, icicles biting like needles against my flesh. Flora flipped the knife she held once.
A knife? Surely she wasn’t planning on drawing blood. Causing pain was an inherent Unseelie practice. “You’re rather insolent for a mortal with no power,” she said.
My guess was correct. Only intuition drove me, but I suspected that ‘Flora’ was not a very Fae-like name from the first time I heard it.
“And you’re rather insecure over something that was settled last year when you pledged Fae. Is that why you dabble in blood art?”
The knife stilled. “You were raised by a faery.” It was a statement, not a question.
“Yes,” I responded. “The original Faery godmothers banned dark magic from this university. What would President Consta do if I said you pulled a knife out every time you need to make a deal?” I gave her my best smirk.
She sliced the knife against her wrist. Blood dripped down her arm, sizzling into the ice.
“Slit your wrist, girl.”
I took out my pocket knife and ran it across my pointer finger until a drop beaded. Flora gave me a look that could cut glass, eyeing my un-slashed wrist with distaste. The drop fell.
“You owe me your time, House mouse. When I say go, you ask where. When I say fight, you say how long? And when I say slit your wrist, youslit your wrist.”
The moment my blood hit the wood, my body recoiled.
Ice.An aching freeze, ancient and otherworldly, devoured me. The blizzard swarmed, overwhelming my senses, anchoring me in place.
The cold consumed. Then paused. Held me in its grasp for a moment more. Ached.
Then it vanished, flushing warmth to my bones. I collapsed forward, breathing deeply.
“First rule of working with me: strongest Fae always wins. You never reveal the dark magic I use to anyone, or I will rip out your mouth for trying.”
I peeled my chest off my knees. Despite having the warmth knocked out of me, energy bristled under my skin. Knowing that the Fae leader hid her darkness revitalized me. I wasn’t alone here, after all.
